


Richard and Layla 5ever

by itchyfingers



Series: Richard and Layla [8]
Category: Richard Armitage - Fandom
Genre: Babies, F/M, Love, Sex, Smut, premieres
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:17:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2715299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itchyfingers/pseuds/itchyfingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I will never stop writing one-shots about these two and their continuing life together. This is part eight in a series, so at this point, you know what to expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oscar

Layla wiped at the tears on both of her cheeks as Richard walked into the bedroom. Her furtive attempts to hide them failed and he hurried to the bed.

“What’s wrong?”

She flipped her iPad around to show him and he looked at the dress on the screen. It was white with black flowers on it, and for some reason the bottom hem was lopsided. There weren’t any words to help him understand what he was looking at and while he thought it was a nice dress, it didn’t seem like something to cry over.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s from Oscar de la Renta’s last collection at New York Fashion week and I missed it and I’m never going to get to see him again.”

“Oh.” He’d heard something on the news about the designer dying, but it had been one of those background stories he didn’t pay much attention to. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s been one of my favorite designers forever. Elegant and feminine, and nobody could do a day dress like him. He’s one of the reasons I fell in love with fashion, and I’m not even going to be at the magazine to do a retrospective on him.”

He watched as her fingers flew over the screen, pulling up the homepage for her magazine. She clicked through to the fashion section and scanned the page for the news of de la Renta’s death. He watched a frown appear as she read the brief article. “They better be planning something more extensive than this for the next issue,” she muttered.

Richard watched as she pulled up her work email and logged in. His eyes widened as he saw the thousands of emails waiting for her attention in her inbox but she ignored them and pulled up a new message. She entered the name of her boss, Margot, in the to: box and started typing away about possible ideas for a retrospective.

He gently placed his hand over hers, stilling her fingers for a moment. “Darling, you’re on maternity leave. You don’t need to be doing this right now.”

“Yes, I do.” She pulled her hand out from under his and pulled her hair back, reaching for a tie to secure it out of her face. “It’s the least I can do considering I wasn’t there when I should have been.”

“You were right where you should have been. The babies were three weeks old and you were being a mum.”

“It’s not the same for you. You finished a play and have shot an entire film on a different continent since the babies were born. I have nursed. I have not used my education or training for months now and I honestly can’t remember the last time I wore makeup. I consider it an accomplishment if I get a shower in during the day, and I didn’t get to see his last collection walk and I’m never going to see one of his own collections again, and I  _need_  to do this, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied tightly and left the room.

He came back an hour later with a fussing baby in each arm to find her still typing. “I’ve changed their nappies but there’s only enough milk pumped to feed one of them.”

She looked up and smiled. “Bring them here. I need to nurse anyway or I’m going to explode.” She tossed her iPad to the foot of the bed and reached for her nursing pillow. It was all muscle memory by this point, where to put the pillows behind her back, how to position each of the babies and get them to latch, giggling as Jack’s little hand hugged her breast and flipped her off at the same time. Richard sat in the arm chair across the room and watched as she stroked their fuzzy hair and cooed to both of them. She looked like an angel to him in these moments when all of her attention was focused on the babies and she wasn’t worried about anything else. She glowed with an inner light and her smile was one that no one else received except for those two little bundles in her arms.

“I think you should get an Oscar de la Renta dress for the premiere.”

Layla lifted her head and looked at him with a wavering smile. “That’s a nice idea, but there’s no way I’ll be fit enough to wear one of his gowns in a month.”

“Sweetness, you could wear a bin liner and still be the most beautiful woman there.”

“You’re very sweet, but I still have a belly and–,”

“No,” he cut her off. “This is going to happen. It may not be your normal size negative three, but you are going to go to the premiere with me and you’re going to wear an Oscar de la Renta dress, and you’ll have to pump at least once but I’m sure someone can help us figure all that out. You need to be Layla for a night instead of mum, and I’m going to call Izzy and make sure you’re going to be Layla in Oscar de la Renta, whether you think your body is ready or not.”

Layla bit her lips together and looked at him for a very long moment and then dropped her gaze to her babies again. “You two have a very good daddy, and I hope you never forget that.” A tear fell on to Gemma’s head and she smoothed it away. “A very, very good daddy.”


	2. Layla in London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Layla attends the London premiere of The Battle of Five Armies with Richard.
> 
> ETA: Apparently the first time I posted this I only posted the first third of the chapter! Oops! It's all fixed now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how The Hobbit ends? If not, this chapter will spoil it for you. It will spoil The Crucible's ending as well. So, you know, fair warning.

Richard nuzzled Layla’s hair as they rode the lift down to the lobby of the hotel they had booked for the night to make things easier on them. “I have to say, watching you nurse my babies with your hair up and your makeup done and with long dangly earrings, and nothing on but your stockings and knickers? Surprisingly hot.”

Layla blushed and stroked his jaw. “I had to wait until the last possible second to nurse if I have any hope of making it through this.” The signage in the lift was advertising the superb restaurant located on the second floor and Layla could feel her stomach gurgle.  _That_  was what she had forgotten to do. She knew it had been something. Well, hopefully they would have something she could eat at the premiere.

“Have I told you yet how gorgeous you look?”

She tore her eyes away from the beautifully presented steak and smiled up at him. “Three times I think?”

“Let’s make it a fourth. You’re beautiful. I know you’ve been nervous about this, but Oscar de la Renta would be proud of how you look in that dress.”

She caught a glimpse of them together in the mirrors lining the lift. “You’re very handsome yourself.” She stroked the lapels of his suit. “Handsome to the point of me just wanting to take this suit off of you right now.”

The lift dinged and the doors slid open, keeping her from following through on the threat. Richard helped Layla on with her chocolate brown velvet cloak before they stepped out of the lobby to the waiting car, raising the hood carefully over her hair to not muss it. “You look like a beautiful elf.”

“I’m telling Lee.”

“What, that I called you beautiful?”

“That you admitted an elf  _could_  be beautiful.”

“ _You_  are the only beautiful elf.”

“Okay, now I’m telling Evangeline. And Cate. Is Cate going to be there tonight?”

“I don’t think she will be. I still can’t believe Warner Brothers didn’t fly everyone in for this.”

Layla settled against Richard’s side, counting the minutes she had been away from the babies. This would be the longest she had ever left them, and even though she knew they were safe up in the hotel room with Izzy and Deb and Rachel and bottles full of pumped milk in case they got hungry before she got back to them, part of her wanted to jump out of the car and run back to the hotel and take them in her arms and apologize for ever leaving them.

She slipped her hand into Richard’s and gripped it tighter than normal.

“You fretting about the children?”

“A touch. I’m not used to them being in a different room from me, much less a different building.”

He stroked her arm up and down through the velvet of her cloak. “Are you going to be alright? Honestly, if you need to stay with them, I’ll understand.”

“I am coming with you. You’re my husband, I love you, this is a big night for you, and I want to be with you.”

The hood of her cloak slid off of her head as he tipped her face up and kissed her. “Thank you.”

“And I promise not to get mouthy with reporters this time.” She grinned and Richard smiled at her. “In fact, I’m staying far far away from anyone with a microphone.”

“Be as mouthy as you want. Just know the same rules apply as last time.”

Even with the heater in the car going and snuggled into his side, Richard’s words made her shiver. Or maybe it was the memories that made her shiver. “I’ve gotten used to being quiet lately. I’m not going to do something that will make me have to be completely silent.” She idly stroked his thigh.

“Good. I love hearing you.” He kissed her again. “You know if you need to nurse during the film, I won’t be upset if you leave.”

“I should have just worn something strapless and brought the babies. Pull down my gown and just pop them on there, right in the middle of the theatre.”

“That might have been a little distracting.”

The car came to a halt and the flashes of the waiting photographers was visible even through the darkened glass. “For you. I would have been perfectly relaxed. And just put Ian on the other side of me or Evangeline. Neither of them would be bothered by it. And then we could pass the babies around to play with during the sad bits so we don’t ruin our makeup by crying.”

Layla wiped the smudge of her lipstick from his mouth as the car door was opened for them. The cold air rushed in, bringing with it the cacophony of flashing lights and shouting fans. He stepped out and helped her out of the car as well. She kissed him one more time on the cheek. “I’m going to go find Amanda. Have fun signing!”

* * *

 

Layla sat in the back of the car, listening to the hum of the tires against the road as she wiped at her face, trying to remove the smudges of makeup under her eyes. She had known how it ended. She had read the book and she  _knew_  the ending. She knew it would be bad. It wasn’t like she hadn’t watched him die before. She’d watched everything he had ever been in and that meant she had watched him die repeatedly.  _The Crucible_  was still fresh in her memory as well. But this had been different. This role, for all that it looked the least like her Richard, had hit her more than any other. Maybe it was because of the babies and losing him would mean they grew up without a father as well, but watching him die? Watching his nephews, the closest things he had to children, die as well?

She still had Ian’s handkerchief in her hand, smudged now with mascara and eyeliner. She’d used every single tissue in the small packet she had stowed in her purse in preparation, and Ian, bless him, had simply handed over his handkerchief for her use. The minute the credits started to roll, she had leaned over, kissed Richard on the cheek and said, “I have to go nurse.” There had been several sympathetic hand pats by cast members as she scurried out. Tears were on every face, but hers was approximately the shade of her hair.

Walking into the hotel room, the first thing she heard was her babies happily babbling. She bent over their cot. “Hello, little ones.”

They stopped batting their hands at each other and turned their faces up to her. Cherubic little smiles made the tears lose their grip on her and she smiled back at them. “You ready for a snack?”

Deb helped her take off her dress and she spent the next thirty minutes nursing and reassuring herself that Jack and Gemma were not dwarves and were not dead and that everything was going to be okay. With one more kiss to each of them she handed them to their aunties. Izzy touched up her makeup for her, helped her back into her dress, and arranged her cloak.

“You’re a superwoman, Layla.”

Layla laughed. “I’m convinced that superwomen only exist in tribes. I couldn’t do this without all of you.” She kissed cheeks and kissed the babies one more time and then got back in the lift to go meet Richard at the after party.

* * *

 

She found Lee right inside the front doors of the party. “You leaving already?” she asked as she unfastened her cloak and handed it to the waiting attendant.

“Just got here. I’ve been signing autographs. Are you doing better? Everyone was worried about you.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “They don’t tell you pregnancy hormones last for a year after you squeeze out the little bubs.” She hooked her arm through his. “Shall we go find something to eat?”

“Lady after my own heart.”

“I know what it’s like with you tall blokes.” The music got louder and the lights dimmer as they entered the party. “You all eat non-stop.  And nursing twins means I can stuff my face without feeling guilty about a single bite.”

“You look amazing, and not just amazing for having just given birth to twins three months ago. Just amazing period.”

“Oooh, I like you. But it’s the cloak. Richard said it made me look like a beautiful elf.”

Lee’s expressive eyebrows climbed an inch up his forehead. “He said what?”

“I know,” she laughed. “I told him I was going to tattle to you.”

Lee laughed and looked around for Richard. “He’s not going to hear the end of that. And it’s not the cloak, Red. It’s just you.”

Richard beckoned to the two of them from his spot on a comfortable sofa and the two of them made their way over to the group of people clustered on the chairs and couch. “Sorry, I only saved one seat. You’ll have to squeeze in.”

“No worries. I’ll take your lap.” Layla grabbed a tray of hors d'oeuvres from the coffee table before settling herself on Richard’s thighs and Lee took the free spot on the sofa.

“Is everything okay, Auntie?” Aidan asked.

“Everything’s fine. I just got a bit emotional seeing the father of my children die on a huge screen.”

“When do we finally get to meet the tykes?” Amanda demanded.

“Come over any time. With them being early we don’t take them out much, but you’re always welcome to come for a visit.”

“Just wash your hands first or she’ll chuck a bottle of hand sanitizer at your head, and she’s got a remarkable aim on her,” Richard warned and took a drink of his wine. His hand rubbed up and down Layla’s back.

Layla covered her eyes. “It was one time, and it was an accident.”

“Who did you hit?”

“Richard’s brother.”

Aidan handed a pillow to Layla. “Have you seen this yet?”

She took it from him. “Oh my god. Richard, they put your face on a pillow!” She hugged it to her chest. “I am stealing this and I’m going to sleep with it while you’re gone.”

“Just while I’m gone,” he warned. “That thing’s horrifying.”

“Where’s one for Tauriel? I want to find out if Richard thinks she’s a beautiful elf, too.”

“There’s no such thing as a beautiful elf,” Adam said.

Layla giggled and took a sip from Richard’s wine glass. “Not according to Richard…”

He pinched her waist. “You ratted me out. So much for honor and loyalty.”

Layla nuzzled his cheek as she laughed.

“Wait, Thorin Oakenshield admitted that elves are pretty?” Martin asked.

“I told  _my wife_  she looked like a beautiful elf. She had a cloak with a hood and she looked like a Lothlorien elf. Not one of these scruffy Mirkwood ones.” Richard chuckled as Lee shoved him in the arm. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go enjoy a dance with my wife before she tells you anything else she shouldn’t.” He swatted Layla on the bum and she took one more sip of his wine before she stood up. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out onto the dance floor.

“Am I in trouble?” She batted her eyelashes innocently at him as she hooked her arms around his neck.

“Only if you want to be.”

“Mmmmmm, that raises all sorts of possibilities, doesn’t it?” She stepped a little closer as they danced, rubbing against him in a subtle manner. Richard’s eyebrow rose. Perhaps it wasn’t that subtle.

“You keep that up and I’ll drag you into the loo and fuck you,” he rasped in her ear. “I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.”

“I know I’m supposed to feel guilty about leaving my babies with someone else, but right now I just feel like a cat in heat.” She nipped at his jaw, pressing against him with her whole body.

His breath came out in a hot rush against the side of her face. He grabbed one of her hands from behind his neck and easily made his way through the dancers, clearing a wake for her to follow. She was giggling as she followed him as fast as she could in her tight skirt and heels. Back through the VIP section, where she waved at the people with whom she had just been conversing, all of whom waved back at her with huge grins on their faces, and down a hallway. Richard shoved open the bathroom door, checked the two stalls and then locked the bathroom door.

“Pull your skirt up, sweetness. I’m afraid I’d tear it.” He was already undoing the buckle on his belt.

Layla wiggled the long skirt up to her waist. Richard groaned as the tops of her stocking made an appearance, drowning out the sound of his zipper getting pulled down. Then his hands were on her and she was pushed up against the wall. The wallpaper was rough on her bum as his fingers dug into her hips and he lifted her. She kicked off her heels and wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Receiving his kisses was like being devoured. As tired as they both were between careers and babies, they still weren’t having sex nearly as much as either of them wanted, and the dam had just burst for both of them. He pressed his chest against hers, holding her against the wall as he made enough room for his hand to delve between her thighs and rub against her knickers.

“God, Layla, I can’t resist you.” He suckled on her full bottom lip as he stroked her through black silk. “You make me lose all control of myself.”

Layla tilted her hips away from the wall, pressing against his questing fingers. She wrapped his tie around her hand and pulled, dragging his face closer. “Don’t talk,” she murmured against his lips, “just fuck me.”

He groaned into her mouth as he shoved her knickers to the side. A few movements of her hips and she had him just where he needed to be. She pressed her face to his shoulder to stifle the moan that she couldn’t prevent when he thrust himself into her with one rough shove of his hips.  He rested his forehead against hers for a moment and then she clenched around him and he groaned again. “You are going to be the death of me, woman.”

Layla shook her head as he pulled almost all the way out and then thrust again. “I’m the life of you.” She kissed him. “And you’re the life of me.” She stopped trying to talk and kept kissing him. He held her hip with one hand and his other hand worked into her hair, loosening it until he could sink his fingers into her curls. Their breathing was heavy and ragged when someone pounded on the door.

“Just a minute,” Richard shouted and Layla giggled.

“Come on, darling,” she murmured. “Give me what I want.” He growled and thrust sharply into her and she whimpered. She slid her hand between them and stroked her clit. Her legs began to tremble and her stomach went rigid as she felt the heat gathering in her groin start to spread. “Richard,” she whined, “please.”

He caught her mouth, kissing her, taking the breath from her lungs and the whimpers from her lips. His teeth raked against her tongue and her body stiffened. He drove into her, his thrusts ragged and quick. His eyes squeezed shut as she clenched around his shaft and bit back the primal howl that sat in his throat as he came inside her.

A few minutes later they made their way back out to the group, still a little wrinkled and disheveled from their activities. Richard sat down and pulled Layla down on his lap again. She picked up his wine glass and took a drink as everyone looked at them while biting back huge smiles.

“So, Auntie, your hair’s a little messed up,” Aidan stage whispered and Sarah smacked him in the arm.

She patted her hair, tucking back a curl that had completely escaped her attempts to confine it. “I’ve decided to go with the scruffy Mirkwood look for the after party.” Lee laughed, Richard groaned, and Layla stuck her tongue out at Aidan. She popped one of the canapés in her mouth. “Bathroom’s free if anyone needs it,” she muttered.

Martin looked at Aidan. Aidan looked at Martin. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Layla snorted at the scandalized look on Sarah’s face, but she burst out in uncontrollable laughter when Amanda grabbed Martin’s lapel, hauled him to his feet, and dragged him most willingly down the hall.


	3. To China, with Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texts from when Richard was in China doing BotFA press. I forgot to post this one here.

  * LAYLA: Come home.
  * RICHARD: Soon.
  * LAYLA: Bring home stuffed pandas for the babies.
  * RICHARD: They're already in the suitcase. Along with other things I happened to see.
  * LAYLA: You looked really really good in that tux.
  * RICHARD: Thank you.
  * LAYLA: Now take it off.
  * RICHARD: I think you might get more benefit out of that if I were actually in London rather than Beijing.
  * LAYLA: Your phone has a camera. Just don't post it to twitter accidentally.
  * RICHARD: Think of how many followers I would get. :D
  * LAYLA: Mine. Only mine.
  * RICHARD: *sends naked picture*
  * LAYLA: Come home now.




	4. Seeing is Believing

The small condo they had rented in Toronto was dark when Richard got home, except for the light by the front door and the light in the hall and another light in the en suite. Richard stood in the dark bedroom and watched Layla as she stood in the bathroom in front of a full length mirror completely naked. She pinched the top of her breasts and pulled upwards until the nipples faced straight forward and then let them drop. The frown she already had on her face deepened. She turned sideways and pressed her hand to her stomach. In the reflection, he saw her suck in her stomach and then press both hands to it to flatten it further.  Her fingers dragged slowly over the stretch marks that decorated her skin.

He coughed and she jerked her hands away as she turned towards him.

“Come here, beautiful.”

Layla looked behind her.

“Don’t do that,” he said gently.

She looked at him again with a guilty expression.

He crooked his finger. “Come here, beautiful.”

Layla turned off the bathroom light and walked into the darkened bedroom. She pulled off Richard’s t-shirt and pressed herself against his chest. His arms closed around her and held her in a familiar and safe embrace. She slowly inhaled but he must have showered before he came home from shooting. He smelled of soap rather than of himself. “I don’t feel beautiful,” she confessed.

“You look beautiful.” He smoothed her hair away from her face with both hands and gathered the mass of curls into a tail which he pulled back so her face was tilted up towards him. “Completely beautiful.” He kissed her, hoping she could feel the truth of what he was saying, even if she wouldn’t believe the words.

His lips had always been so good at soothing away so many of her worries but though they were persuasive, they weren’t enough to completely silence the voices in her head.  “My belly pooches and my breasts aren’t where they used to be and I’ve got stretch marks.”

“So?”

She’d tried on some of her pre-pregnancy clothes for the first time today. Nothing zipped and her shirts strained over her breasts. “My old clothes don’t fit.”

“You had two babies, sweetness. It’s going to take some time to get back to where you were, especially since the doctor just approved you working out yesterday.”

“But I go back to work in five months.”

“That’s plenty of time.” He held her quietly for a few more minutes, knowing by the rigidness of her back that there were more thoughts she was working up the strength to confess.

“There are moments where I think about stopping nursing so I can diet and get rid of the extra weight.”

The idea saddened him, but was not a surprise. “If that’s what you need to do to be happy then we’ll do that.”

He felt a few of the muscles in her back loosen under his hands. “You still think I’m pretty?” she asked dejectedly.

“You’re gorgeous, Layla.”

“Even though I’m fat and my boobs aren’t perky?”

“You’re the only person in the world that thinks you’re fat, and your breasts are glorious and perfect.” He cupped them in his hands and kissed each one, first on the swell of her décolletage and then softly on each nipple.

“You don’t think I’m fat?”

“Do you think  _I’m_  fat?”

“Of course not.” She trailed her hands over his exposed chest. He was _definitely_  not fat. In fact, she thought him rather perfect.

“Well, your waist is smaller than mine, so you’re good.”

She laughed and poked his stomach. It barely gave. “But you’re a  _boy_!”

“And you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Layla ducked her head and nervously stroked his sternum with one fingertip. “There are a lot of beautiful women on  _Hannibal._ ”

Richard caught her chin between his thumb and finger. “Is that what this is about?”

“You go off and are all tattooed and actory with Caroline Dhavernas and Gillian Anderson and everyone else and come home to me with my pudgy, droopy body and smelling of eau de breast milk.”

Richard fought back a huff of irritation, though he couldn’t quite keep the sentiment out of his voice. “Stick your hand down my pants.”

Layla’s nose wrinkled in confusion as she stepped back from him. “What?”

He unbuttoned his jeans and lowered the zipper. “I said, stick your hand in my pants.”

Layla carefully slid her hand inside the waistband of his boxer briefs. She didn’t have to go much further to find his cock. It was hard and hot and he hissed in a breath as her fingers closed around it.

“If you don’t believe my words, believe my cock. I’m aching because you’re standing there naked. I think you’re gorgeous and sexy and I really want to fuck you right now.”

She gripped him a little firmer and a smile teased at the corner of her mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head. “This is because of me?”

The curve of her mouth made him relax. Apparently his erection convinced her where his words didn’t. “Yes. It’s because of you and your luscious body. I look at you and I see the woman I love. The beautiful, sexy, intelligent, mother of my children and guardian of my heart and temptress of the rest of me.”

She stroked up and down his cock as much as she was able inside his close fitting pants. The shower had washed away the scent of him, but the feel of his pulse hot against her palm was just as soothing to her nerves. It was like a talisman against the evil voices in her head. “Do you want me to go put on some naughty lingerie?”

“No, I want you to get on that bed and spread your legs for me.”

Layla couldn’t help the shudder that wracked her body with those words. His voice had dropped almost an octave in the last few seconds and his accent had deepened.  She kissed him as she extricated her hand from his briefs and flicked her tongue into his mouth. Before he could respond in kind she stepped back and moved over to the bed.

Richard watched as she crawled into the middle of the bed and rolled over, spreading her legs for him. He flipped on the lamp on his nightstand so he could see her better. Her legs were parted but not enough for his taste. “Widuh.”

Layla’s smile took on a decidedly naughty air as she slowly spread her legs further apart and drew her feet up to her bum. She could tell by the way his breath hitched in his chest that he appreciated the new angle.

“Touch yuhself, sweetness.”

She slid two fingers into her mouth and sucked them slowly in and out several times. His breathing roughened and when she pulled them from between her lips and swirled them over her clit a groan rumbled in his throat. He unzipped his jeans the rest of the way and she let her eyes close and concentrated on the way her growing arousal was spreading through her body, making her feel like she was glowing. She felt the bed dip and then the warmth of his touch as his hands closed around her ankles. His grip was firm as he placed kisses on each knee and then on the delicate skin of her inner thighs. She moaned at the feel of his lips pressing against her fingers and then his tongue pushed between them and lapped against her clit. She moved her hand out of his way because her fingers were nothing compared to the wonders his tongue could do. The growling noise he made as he sucked her clit between his lips resonated through her body and made her glow brighter.

Richard let go of her ankle and slid a finger inside her. The high-pitched breathy moan she made in response just made him smile and suckle with more intent. He kept that finger deep inside her and rubbed her g-spot. She got so incredibly wet when he did that and he wanted her dripping. He needed her to be overwhelmed by the force of her body’s response to him, to love the way her body felt, to love what her body could do for her. Her hands grabbing his head let him know she was responding exactly the way he wanted.

Layla loved it when Richard went down on her. She loved it when he fingered her. When he did both together she was ecstatic, or rather, it was ecstasy inducing. His hands were one of her favorite body parts, and she especially loved his broad, long fingers and the skilled precision with which he used them. He knew exactly where and how to touch her and just when she was about to beg for more, he pushed a second finger in with the first. She clenched helplessly around them. Everything from now on would be helpless. She lost conscious control of her body as the wet sounds of his tongue and lips and fingers did nothing to dampen the fire burning inside her. The glow was so bright that she was seeing stars, even behind her closed eyes, and the muscles in her legs trembled as she dug her feet into the bed, lifting her hips from the bed and offering herself to him, rocking against him, grinding against his tongue in an illicit tango. His lips closed around her clit and tugged and the glow went incandescent, sparking into a thousand fires that shone like moonlight and dripped from her fingers so she was floating in a sea of light.

Richard listened to the ragged call of his name with a sense of satisfaction. His tongue didn’t slow until her hips dropped to the bed again and he kept kissing her as her thighs continued to tremble. Only when her hand dropped from his head to her stomach did he stop. He crawled up her and kissed her mouth, letting her taste herself on his lips and tongue. As her arms wrapped around him, he grabbed his cock and rubbed it in her wetness. “I’ll give you this on one condition, sweetness.”

She squirmed underneath him and he tapped her clit with it. “What is it?” she asked, breathy and needy as he continued to rub the head of his cock over her clit.

“You have to tell me you’re beautiful.”

“Richarrrrd,” she whined and dug her fingers into his sides, trying to tug him against her.

He pulled just far enough away to make her pout and nipped at her protruding bottom lip. “Tell me you’re beautiful, dahlin.”

Layla heaved a sigh like he had asked her to go make him a sandwich, but couldn’t hide the smile that played around the corners of her mouth. She screwed her eyes shut. “I’m beautiful,” she muttered.

“What was that, gorgeous? I didn’t quite hear you.”

She opened one eye at the laughing tone and smiled up at him. “I’m beautiful,” she said. His eyes were fixed on her, a pale thin band of blue around his wide pupils. He was seeing  _her_ , Layla could tell, not just her body but down to her soul.

“You are, Layla. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” She believed him and he could see her body soften and relax under him as the words drove away the demons for a little while, and she became the goddess that he worshipped whether or not she had faith in herself.

“I love you, Richard,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the air that between them that stood heavy and infused with their love.

He pressed inside her and she clung to him as his head dropped down so his lips were against her ear. He murmured over and over to her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her and desired her and craved the silken feel of her under him and around him and constantly with him, how he hated to leave her for even a moment, and that his day grew brighter when he came home to her, no matter how dark the hour.

He gave her another orgasm before seeking his own release, but Layla found that the physical pleasure was secondary to the sensation in her heart. She was lucky and loved and for the next little while she would believe herself to be beautiful, because she saw herself through his eyes.


	5. Deadline

Layla stood in the circle of light from the sconces on either side of her front door and fumbled through her bag for her keys. She finally found them in the deepest corner and entered her dark house. She flipped off the porch lights and shut the door before kicking off her flats and dropping her bag on the entry table. It was quiet enough that the children had to be asleep, but she could see a light on down the hall which meant Rachel would still be awake. Hopefully she would be willing to make something to eat because Layla was so tired she’d just do without rather than try and feed herself. Actually, it smelled like Rachel was cooking right now.

She followed the light and the delicious aroma to the kitchen and stopped in surprise when she saw who was standing over the stove. “Richard!”

“Hello, sweetness.” He pulled the pan off of the burner as Layla ran around the kitchen island and climbed into his arms. He wrapped an arm around her hips to hold her steady as her feet were no longer on the ground.

“Did I know you were coming home today? I know I tend to get single minded around the deadline, but I can’t believe I forgot.”

He kissed her firmly, both arms wrapped around her and holding her close to his chest so their hearts could hear each other and come back into sync. “I didn’t tell you I was coming. The last thing you needed was more stress on a deadline day.”

She didn’t bother to answer. Instead she kissed him again, his mouth and his throat and the line of his jaw. His fingers braided themselves into her hair and he tugged her head back until he could taste the hollow at the base of her neck and feel her pulse against his lips.

“Food and then sex?”

She shook her head the little bit that was allowed with him gripping her hair. “Sex and then food and then more sex.”

His laughter was deep and soft. “The only thing that makes leaving worth it is the way you welcome me home.”


	6. Pedicure

Layla relaxed back into the sofa and took another drink of her wine. Gemma and Jack were finally asleep upstairs – in separate cribs now since they have shifted from helping each other sleep to keeping each other awake – and the one light still on in the living room revealed Richard sitting on the floor with her bare leg hooked over his shoulder. “You don’t actually have to give me a pedicure, you know.”

Richard dipped the brush back in the bottle of lacquer and carefully painted another stripe of persimmon-colored paint on her toenail. “It’s only fair. I’m the reason you missed your appointment. I should fix it.” He adjusted one of the balls of cotton wool placed between her toes. “Besides,” he took a moment to kiss her knee, “this is nice.”

She stroked her fingers over his hair, scratching lightly in the places he enjoyed it, and smiled as his chest rumbled like a big cat purring. “It is.”

He pulled her other leg up onto his other shoulder and rested her foot on his thigh before continuing to meticulously paint her nails. Her eyes sank shut as he slowly stroked her calf and interspersed soft kisses to her leg with his attention to her toes. After a few minutes he screwed the bottle shut and set it aside. “Would madam care for a special spa treatment while she waits for her nails to dry?”

The poorly masked laughter in his voice let her know he was up to something, and she had a fairly good idea what it was. “As long as I don’t have to walk anywhere.”

Richard lifted her legs just enough to turn around and then rested them on his shoulders again. He slid his hands up her thighs and grabbed her hips. “You don’t have to walk anywhere.” He tugged her forward on the cushion, so she was sitting right on the edge, and hooked his fingers into the sides of her knickers. “Just sit right there and relax.”


	7. Sugar Crash

Richard carefully closed the door to the nursery, waited a few seconds in case of another outburst, and then sighed with relief. They were out. Finally. He tiptoed down the stairs and relaxed once he was in the living room with no sounds of distress or anger following him this time. The excitement of the day had worn them out and made them cranky, and their delayed nap had been harder to achieve than normal.

Layla held out a glass of wine to him and he joined her on the sofa where she was looking through pictures from the party. She quickly flipped through the ones that documented all the painstakingly planned out decorations and food – past the cupcakes arranged to look like the hungriest caterpillar, and the poofballs in the same colors that hung from the tree, and the buffet table covered in food, all shaped in balls, all small enough for baby hands to grasp. It had made eating as an adult more of an effort than usual, but Gemma and Jack had loved every morsel, from the cake pops and the melon balls to the squishy gelatin spheres that had been mashed into every crevice of their chairs. When she arrived at the pictures of her babies, she slowed down and examined each one, smiling at the chubby thighs and pinching fingers and laughing faces smeared with frosting.

“You threw a wonderful party.”

She yawned and took a large gulp of wine. “Do you think that they’re always going to be okay with one party for both of them? I’m not sure I can deal with any more birthday parties tucked into one week.”

He chuckled. The dinner party she had thrown for him had been both fun and elegant, and the fact that her lingerie that night had been bedecked with bows for him to untie had been a perfect finishing touch. The party she had put together for their children had been just as perfect, though there had been less wine. And less lingerie. At least so far. “I am a little jealous that you made them a ball pit and not me.”

She snickered and kept flipping through the pictures, occasionally stopping to touch tiny fingers or a smile glistening with drool. “It’s still out in the garden if you want to go play in it. I’m not sure you’ll fit in a kiddie pool, though.”

He nuzzled her neck and kissed right behind her ear. “Maybe next year you can fill up the bathtub for my birthday and we can play together.”

The blush coloring her cheeks made her freckles less prominent. “I think I did pretty good this year with getting both of them to say Dada for the first time on your birthday.”

Richard smiled. He would never forget that moment. And now whenever he walked by they would say, “Dada!” and reach up their arms until he picked them up and played with them. “Best birthday present ever.”

She flipped through a few more photos, and stopped on a picture of him holding Gemma on one hip and Jack on the other, and both of them smearing their frosting coated fingers over his shirt and face. “I think I need to tweet this one.”

“You get one.” He’d compromised on this with her; she got to tweet one picture of major events with the children. Other than that they shared pictures only with family and close friends.

She kissed him on the cheek and started laughing. “You still taste like frosting.”

“I thought I’d managed to wash it all off.”

“Not yet. And your shirt is never going to recover.”

“I was waiting until they were asleep to change.” He’d acquired a strategic approach to changing clothes to limit the amount of laundry he generated.

Layla glanced up the stairs and then smiled at him, her eyes heating as she reached for his shirt. “They’re asleep now, aren’t they?”

Even if they weren’t, he would have lied to keep that look on her face. “Yes. Very sound asleep.”

His last words were muffled by his shirt being yanked unceremoniously off. “Is it wrong that watching you with our babies makes me wet?” she whispered in his ear before she bit it.

He arched an eyebrow. “It does? I think I need to verify that for myself.” He picked her up and hauled her into his lap, and brought her down so she was straddling his thighs. His head fell back against the sofa as she licked her way down his throat, and he slid his hands under the full skirt of her dress and up to her ass, squeezing and pulling at the firm curves until she was whining against his skin and squirming against him. He slipped a hand between her legs and found the soft fabric of her knickers already damp. Her breath was hot against his shoulder as she melted against him. The only part of her body still moving was her hips as they rotated slowly against his hand.

He let her pleasure herself for a minute as he hardened underneath her, both the feel and the scent of her intoxicating him and making him lose control. When he couldn’t stand to wait anymore, he pulled her knickers to the side and slid his fingertips along her wetness, soaking them before pushing inside her. Her teeth sank into his skin as she stifled a groan, and she clenched around him, holding him motionless before he pulled back out and sank into her again. His thumb found her clit and she moaned again. He wrapped his free hand around the back of her head and kissed her, savoring her mouth and finding her more to his taste than the most delicious cake. The sweet sounds she made vibrated against his lips as he kept fingering her. Her grip on his shoulders grew tighter, and he began to feel her nails digging into his skin. He tore his mouth away from hers. “Come on, sweetness, give me what I want.” She pressed her lips to the corner of his jaw, held herself still for a few seconds as he worked his thumb over her clit with exactly the pressure she needed, and then cried out, trying to muffle the sound of her orgasm by pressing her face against his neck.

He flipped her onto her back, took a few seconds to shove his jeans down and fell on her, tossing her skirt up around her waist and pulling her knickers over to the side again. Then he was in her, and he braced his feet against the arm of the sofa and thrust again. He groaned at the heat of her, the wetness of her, the silk of her bare legs around his hips. He sucked on her breasts, squeezing and tugging at her nipple until it was a perfect peak, before switching sides, all the while driving into her. The last few days had been incredibly busy and though he had survived weeks without her while filming, having her constantly within arm’s reach but never finding the time to actually touch her the way he wanted was a form of torture. She came to bed after him and was out of bed before he was awake, leaving the ghost of her scent on the pillow next to him. Her hands stroked over his back, against his neck, up into his hair, like she too was making up for lost time and needed all of him, needed to make the skin under her fingertips familiar again.

She needed all of him, and he gave her all of him, and when they were done, he picked her up, carried her up to their bedroom, and tucked her into bed before wrapping around her and holding her close. They could all use a nap after the last few days. And then, when they woke again, and she wasn’t a ghost and he more than a familiar face, he would tire her out proper, in a way that would leave her glowing instead of with circles under her eyes.

That is, assuming the kids stayed asleep.

If not, there was always tonight, and a bottle of wine, and leftover cake, and the bathtub. Maybe it wasn’t a ball pit, but they would find their own kind of fun.


	8. Show Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized the day after I posted this that I had forgotten to post here several drabbles I had posted on my tumblr. Those are added in now as chapters five through seven, so you might want to go back and read those too.

Layla glanced at the bedroom door again to make sure it was completely shut and then turned her attention back to the iPad she was holding. “Show me.”

Her skin flushed with a sudden heat at the smirk he gave her. Lust wasn’t red; it was the azure flame of his eyes as he shifted his iPad to show her his bare chest, and then further down, to where his hand held his swelling cock up for her appraisal.

She licked her lips without realizing it as she stared. “How much longer until you’re back?” 

“Too long.” His voice was a growl and he stroked his fingers up the length of his shaft and then tugged downward, pulling the skin so she could see the deepening hue of the crown. “Too fucking long.”

Layla’s fingertip slid along her bottom lip as she watched, absentmindedly dragging back and forth in tempo with his hand. His breathing roughened as he continued and Layla licked her lips once more, finding they had gone dry.

“Fffuck . . “ His thumb slid over the crown on the next upward stroke, smearing the droplet that had appeared. “I miss that tongue, sweetness. That tongue and those lips.”

She shivered. Goosebumps prickled her arms and her nipples hardened. “You know what I’m going to do the instant we say goodnight?”

He grunted a negative.

“I’m buying a plane ticket for this weekend.” Her hand dropped to a breast, catching her nipple between her fingers as she squeezed.

His hand spasmed, clenching hard for a moment. “Don’t tease me.”

“No teasing. I am going to come visit and I will suck you dry.”

“Oh god.” His hand quickened. “You are perfection, Layla. Absolute perfection.”

“I’m glad you think so.” 

“Show me.” His hips shifted and she saw the edge of his thigh tensing.

“Show you what, love?” She would tease him for just a moment.

“Show me your perfection.”

Another flurry of goosebumps rushed over her skin, leaving her aching in their wake. The dark chocolate velvet of his voice cut through her teasing and left her breathless. Without another word, she tipped her iPad  so it could follow her hand down her stomach and between her legs. 

Richard groaned as she spread for him. “Perfection indeed.”


	9. Forget/Remember

Richard’s eyes sank shut and he pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment when he heard the knock on the door. He’d been home – he snorted in disgust as he shot a glance at the cluttered flat he was staying in, it wasn’t home in any meaningful way – for fifteen minutes, and all he wanted was a glass of wine and then to collapse into bed and now this, whatever this was going to be. He sure as hell hadn’t invited anyone over. He put down the bottle on the entry table and peered through the peephole. His grumbling came to a sudden stop and he grabbed the door handle.

“Layla?”

She took two steps in, just far enough to be out of the way of the door, and then let go of her small wheeled suitcase and dropped her coat on top of it. She pressed herself to him, molding against his body as if every one of her bones had turned to jelly. “I need your thighs.”

Richard grinned and let the door swing shut. His hands went immediately to her hair, pulling out the pins that kept her wild mane under control, and dropping them to the floor. He worked his fingers into her curls and cradled the back of her head where it rested against him. His other hand dropped to her bottom and curled possessively around it.

She didn’t say anything else, and he was content to hold her for now, content because that suitcase portended that she would be here for more than a few stolen minutes. Her grip slowly loosened and they began to breathe in counterpoint, his inhale matching her exhale, as they shared the air around them as easily as they shared this simple intimacy. After a while, her face tilted and she softly kissed his throat and then inhaled deeply. “I was beginning to forget what you smelled like,” she whispered.

“Well, we can’t have that.”

Her hands slid under his shirt and he let go of her long enough to pull it off and then he took her in his arms again. One hand was back in her hair, but this time, the other hand found the tab of the zipper at the base of her neck and slowly pulled it downward, loosening the tight dress she had on. It came to a halt a few inches below her waist, and his hand slipped inside and curled around her arse. Her skin was softer than the silk of her knickers and he squeezed, pulling her tighter against him. He hadn’t forgotten what she felt like, but he had been starting to think that he had exaggerated her perfection, the softness of her skin, the firmness of her curves, the way her hair caught the smallest source of light and glowed like liquid fire, warming him surer than any source of heat. He hadn’t though.

“I know you’re exhausted,” she said, still pressed up against him. “We don’t have to have sex, but I – ”

His other hand dropped to her arse and he pulled her tight, rocked her against his groin, letting her feel his thoughts about her plans for the evening. “We’re definitely having sex, dahlin.”

He felt her shiver, felt it from his thighs up to his jaw where she was already pressing a soft, damp kiss. It left every hair on his body on end, like she was a bolt of lightning that had struck him to his core. He let go of her long enough to strip off her dress and then grabbed her again, pulling her up and against him as he took her mouth. She didn’t need any encouragement. One of her legs twined around his hip and he lifted her, both hands on the silk of her arse, and carried her into the bedroom.

It was a mess. The blanket and sheet were shoved to the foot of the bed where he had left them this morning. The pillows were scattered. Dirty laundry was strewn haphazardly in a pile around the hamper. None of it mattered right now. She couldn’t see it with her eyes closed, and even if she opened them, she wouldn’t have looked beyond him. He was her universe right now, the source of her light and her entire existence in one. He placed her on the edge of the bed, keeping his mouth on hers as he fumbled with the fly of his jeans.

“How long are you here?” How many times do I get to fuck you, make love with you, breathe your skin before you are gone again? How long do I get to hold you in my arms?

Her answer took a while to come, a while filled by kisses and stroking hands, and lungs turning to gasps and pants. “Tonight and tomorrow night. I fly out the morning after.”

“I wish I didn’t have to shoot tomorrow.” He yanked at the hooks on her bra. They were the enemy right now, denying him access to her perfect breasts, to the heaven of her ruched nipple on his tongue.

“I have meetings. Janine ambushed me this afternoon, told me she was tired of me moping around, handed me a plane ticket and said she’d booked meetings with designers in Berlin all day tomorrow, but I would have to find my own place to stay.”

The hooks gave way and her breasts spilled into his hands, filling them physically, filling him emotionally. “God bless Janine,” he muttered as he bent to take one in his mouth. Her nails scratched deliciously over his scalp as she clutched his head. She slowly fell back to the bed, pulling him with her as he worshipped her breasts, one in his mouth, one in his hand, switching back and forth as they vied for his attention, for his tongue, for his touch. He set a knee on the edge of the mattress for balance as she laid back, arching under him, following his every movement. Her foot ran down the back of his calf, and her heel caught in the denim. He’d only managed to get his jeans undone before getting distracted by her body.

“I love you, Richard, but no foreplay. I need you in me now.”

He looked up at her as he flicked the tip of his tongue against her wet pebbled nipple. Her eyes were feral with need and they glowed like her hair. “You need me?” he growled, purposely pitching his voice deeper than normal.

She grabbed his hand, snatching it from her breast and sat up enough to press it between her legs. She clamped it against the fabric of her panties and rocked against his fingers. The fabric was soaked. His fingers were instantly wet. “I need you. I need you like my heart needs to beat. Please, Richard, I feel like part of me is dying.”

Her hand trembled as she begged and her chin quivered for one moment. That flash of vulnerability cleaved his heart in two. She needed him and he would give her everything. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, pouring into it everything he was feeling. His love, his need, his lust, his heart, giving her the reassurance of his touch that he was hers. He kept kissing her as he scooted her backwards on the bed, and their lips never parted from each other as he finished shoving down his jeans and his pants. She shimmied out of her knickers, squirming under him in a way that was delightful, even unintentionally, but when she reached for her heel, he grabbed her wrist.

“No, sweetness, the Louboutins stay on.”

She laughed, her head tipping back as she filled the room with that most erotic sound, and he kissed her throat. “Those soles are my second favorite red.”

She continued laughing as he crawled over her, as she wrapped her legs around him, as he thrust home, and her laughter turned to a moan of pure relief as he groaned and dropped his head, resting it against her forehead.

“Now I’m home,” she whispered. “Now I’m home.”

He slid his hands from her shoulders down her arms as he kissed her again, down to her hands, down until her fingers were interlocked with his. He pinned them over her head, holding her still, covering her from her perfectly manicured nails to the tips of her ridiculously sexy high heels. He sheltered her under him, letting her breathe him in, letting her soak him in, until she moved her hips in a sensuous undulation.

“This is what I was forgetting, Richard.” She looked up at him with eyes less feral but no less on fire.

“Then let me help you remember.”

There wasn’t anything else they needed to say. He began to move in her, and she moved with him, her legs firm, her body arching, her hips recalling everything she thought she had forgotten. She eventually pulled her hands free, and she clung to him, tucking her face against his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her head, holding her close so that nothing was between them. No distance. No fading memories. Until their hearts beat in time with each other, and their bodies moved like they were one, and their pleasure was shared and magnified and one.

“I’d forgotten how good you smell on my skin,” she said an eternity later, as she lay cradled in his arms with one of his legs hooked over both of hers.

His contented laughter rumbled in his chest, and her fingers danced across his skin, fluttered over his nipple, and then continued downward.

“Now,” she said, and he could hear the laughter purring through her words, “I need to remember how good you taste.”


	10. His Pretend Duchess

Layla took off the emerald necklace and tucked it lovingly back into its velvet case before snapping it shut. One of her favorite perks of being a fashion editor was the ease with which she could borrow expensive jewels. It’s not like there was much call for her to wear several million dollars of emeralds and diamonds on a regular basis, mores the pity, but at least they were available on those occasions when she needed them. Too bad she wasn’t a duchess. It was a sad truth she had accepted during her teenage years that she had been born a few centuries too late for that blessed fate. Of course, she had actually been born several centuries too late, because it’s not like many Irish Catholics had been wearing emeralds and diamonds in the last few hundred years, and pre-Anne Boleyn the hygiene and habitation of most Catholics – and Irish, for that matter – had left much to be desired. So yes, being a fashion editor was definitely the best of all possible worlds.

She stepped out of her heels and carried them into the closet, setting them back in their spot on the fourth shelf. One arm reached over her back to unzip her dress, but before she found the small metal tab, her fingers brushed against Richard’s. He tugged the zipper downward, slowly. She could almost feel his smile, taste his curiosity on the air, as his favorite part of the evening’s festivities were about to begin. The events and functions he attended with her were always a prelude, in his mind, to Undressing Layla.

His skin was warm against hers, but it didn’t have its usual effect on her. Their reflection caught her attention, and she watched in the full length mirror as her dress gaped open in the back. Richard’s attention was distracted by the lingerie revealed beneath the blackberry and cobalt gown, and his fingers fell from the zipper to the lace and silk sheathing her skin.

“These are new,” he said, his voice a barely audible rumble.

He tugged the zipper down the rest of the way, quickly this time, and then traced a finger from her nape down her spine, over the hooks of the bra, the lycra of the suspender belt, dragging to a crawl as it came to rest on the diminutive triangle of silk at the top of her buttocks. His finger slipped under the elastic and tugged, gently, while his other hand went to her shoulder, brushing the fabric of her dress down to her arm.

Layla caught her dress before it fell, crossing her arm over her chest to grab the heavily beaded chiffon and hold it to her. “Who was she?”

Richard looked up from where he had been watching his hand tracing the line of her knickers, and then caught her eyes in the mirror. “She who?”

Layla’s lips firmed for a moment. “The platinum blonde you spent an hour with. The one with her tits up to her chin.”

Richard chuckled, the sound infuriating Layla. “Are you jealous, sweetness?”

“Should I be?”

He tried to spin her around but she refused to budge. With another sound of amusement, he stepped around her so he could look her in the eye.

“Why would you possibly think I would give you a reason to be jealous?”

Layla looked down, focusing on the inches of hardwood flooring between their feet, and the contrast of her sheer stockings and his boldly patterned socks. After a few seconds, he caught her chin on the side of his hand and lifted her face, gently but firmly.

“Layla? Are you worried I would cheat on you?”

She rubbed at her scar and dropped her eyes to his chin, unable to meet the soft concern in his warm blue eyes. “I realized today that we’ve been together longer than Joshua and I were together, and then that woman tonight looked like Lisabeth, and then I started wondering…” She trailed off, feeling stupid for even thinking it.

Richard leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, right on her scar. “Not Joshua,” he whispered.

“I know, but –

He kissed her again, this time on the mouth. “Not Joshua.” He kept kissing her, brushing his lips over her cheeks and along her jaw. “And that wasn’t Lisabeth.” The words were interspersed with his caresses. “That was Naomi James, a theatre producer.”

“Theatre?” she managed to say. His hands had started peeling her dress from her, and she was letting them.

“Mmhmm.” The sound vibrated against her earlobe.

“London theatre?” she said, hopefully. She wasn’t ready for him to go on location again. Not yet.

Another sound of agreement, this time further down her throat.

Somehow her hands were in his hair, and her dress was slithering down her legs. She really should pick it up before it wrinkled any further, but she couldn’t quite convince herself to care, especially now that his hands were on her arse, pulling her flush against him. She did quite enjoy the sensation of being almost naked while he was still fully clothed. The studs in his tuxedo shirt pressed against her skin like little brands.

“It still doesn’t excuse her having her tits up on a platter like that.”

He chuckled again, but this time the sound didn’t make her angry; it heated her blood. He lifted her as he nipped at her neck, and walked into the bedroom with her. “The only one I’m eating tonight, sweetness, is you.”


	11. Finish What You Started

It had been a long day. The sun had set hours ago and the drive home in the rain had been tedious and frustrating. Layla shut the door into the house a moment before she was pushed up against it. Richard’s body was hard against her back, his hands already grabbing at her skirt, inching the tightly fitted fabric up her thighs.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl today,” he growled against her ear. His teeth closed around skin and tugged.

Layla arched her back, pressing her arse into his groin. She grinned, her face against the wall, as she discovered that he was already rock hard. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been _hard_ ,” she smiled and swiveled her bottom against him again, “at work all day.”

His mouth was on her throat now, biting and licking like she was food and he a starving man. “I’ve been the hard one, sweetness.” Her skirt was up around her hips now. He scratched his hands up bare skin, leaving behind lines of fire and ache on her thighs. “You unbuttoning your top. Your nipples hard through the lace of your bra.”

His hands suddenly left her legs and a moment later her blouse was torn open. Buttons plinked off the hardwood floor. One hand closed over her breast and squeezed before he plucked her nipple. Layla shuddered as he rolled the tip between his finger and thumb. Her breasts had been aching for him all day, and now that he was actually touching her, the pain was exquisitely sweet.

“And then the photo of your sweet arse.” He groaned against her collarbone and she felt teeth again. “Skirt pulled all the way up and bent over so I could see your pussy.”

His hand that wasn’t full of her breast dropped between her legs. He nudged her foot with his to get her to widen her stance and she did, automatically moving, not even worrying about whether he had scuffed her heel. His hand closed over her pussy, strong and firm and holding her still, even though she wanted to squirm. Needed to squirm. To grind against those talented fingers.  

“Or should I call it your cunt?” He squeezed and one of his fingers slipped between her labia. His fingertip teased against her entrance, tracing delicate circles that made the ache worse. “When you’re naughty like this, I think you definitely have a cunt, don’t you?”

Layla nodded, not really paying attention to the words as much as the tone of his voice and the hunger in it. She was preoccupied with trying to sheath his finger with her body but he pushed his hips against her, pinning her against the door again. She couldn’t move, but his finger kept up its teasing motion.

“Such a naughty girl. Bent over to show me her sweet arse framed between her skirt and the tops of her stockings, and your delicious cunt. Do you know how many times I’m going to make myself come with that photo when I’m away filming?”

“A hundred?” She suddenly realized that her hands were free. He’d been so busy removing her clothes that he’d never pinned her hands. She ran her hands over his thighs, feeling his muscles shifting under the denim. “A thousand?”

“At least.” He pulled the cup of her bra down and squeezed bare flesh. His nails dug into the soft skin and she gasped. He was barely keeping his need in check. She’d been teasing him all day and he was ready to snap.

“Let me know when you need something new.”

“Do you like taking dirty pictures, naughty girl?”

Did she? It had been kind of a rush today. She’d sent him flirtatious pictures before, even sexy pictures. But dirty pictures? Heat trickled up her legs, kissing the back of her knees and the curve of her arse. She did. She had enjoyed it. Because she knew what they were going to do to him. She loved knowing he was horny and frustrated and it was all her fault. She had never sent sexy pictures to Joshua. Even if she had, he would have told her to stop objectifying herself. But with Richard she could be sexy and dirty and still be a person. “Just for you, Richard.”

“Does it make your hot little cunt drip? When you were bent over and flashing the camera, were you soaking yourself, sweetness?”

Her answer was a breathy laugh.

“Did it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I think the only thing you didn’t send me a photo of today was you actually fingering yourself. I think we need to fix that.”

Her nipples tightened even further and the ache in her groin increased by a factor of ten. She’d never done anything like that before. The picture she’d snapped in one of the dressing rooms at work of her bent over and exposed was the wildest she’d been. They’d had skype sex before, but actual photos were different. He’d be able to keep those. Though he might have kept the skype feeds of their conversations, too. She’d have to ask him at some point if he was archiving their videos. Not right now, though. Not with his hand between her legs and one of his knuckles caressing her clit.

She didn’t say anything. He stepped back and quickly stripped the rest of her clothes from her. She sighed in relief as her bra came off. His hands slid down her legs and she realized with surprise he was removing her stockings. Quickly she was completely naked, except for her jewellery.

“No stockings?”

“No. I want you completely naked for this.”

He was already pulling her into the living room. She followed, her bare feet quiet. He was simply dressed, a t-shirt and jeans, barefoot like her, but there was a delicious charge to the atmosphere from him still being clothed. It added an extra sway to her hips and she ran her fingers through her hair, loosening it from its professional work style so that it became more of a wild aura floating around her.

“There.”

He pointed to one of the arm chairs. He turned on the lamp next to it so that spot in the room was illuminated, even though the rest of it was in darkness. She slipped off her watch and bracelets and left them on the table. Her earrings quickly followed. But when she reached for the clasp of her necklace, he stopped her.

“Keep the necklace.”

It was a faceted stone the size of a quail’s egg that looked like a diamond but most definitely wasn’t. She sat in the arm chair, slouching slightly, hooking one leg over its arm. Richard settled on the couch, slouching just like her. She ran her fingers over her necklace, settling the stone in the hollow at the base of her throat. In the light from the lamp, it would be shimmering, as would the thin strand of gold on which it hung. The only thing glowing more would be her hair.

“Well?” she said.

“Well?” he echoed.

She looked pointedly at his phone which was resting on the sofa next to him.

He huffed in amusement and picked it up.

Layla delicately lapped at one of her fingertips. He groaned. She licked the next one and he groaned again. Then she sucked both fingers into her mouth and his eyes closed as his entire body shivered. She waited until he was looking at her again and suckled her fingertips. She kept from smiling at his reaction. He was so easy to get worked up, and she relished the power she had over him. She wallowed in it, like a warm bubble bath. He was hers, and if she wanted she could bring him to his knees. He had the same power over her. It was a power they both used to their own advantage, but always to the advantage of the other as well. The orgasm she was building up to was going to be phenomenal. The need for him had been rising all day, and now, finally, it was going to be satisfied.

She kept one hand on her breast as she slid her damp fingers over her labia, teasing him, teasing herself. He slouched further down on the sofa, and undid the fly of his jeans. She was surprised he was still in jeans at all. She had expected that they would have been off by the time she got home from work. But now they were open, and his hand was inside them. She hooked her leg higher up over the arm of the chair so his view of what she was doing was better, and then skimmed over her clit.

This time it was her that groaned.

Oh, this orgasm was not going to take very long at all. She was already on the edge of it, just from all the teasing.  

Her finger circled, slowly at first, and then faster. She tried to make it last, tried to stay away from her clit, sliding first one finger and then two inside her pussy, inside her naughty cunt as he had called it, but that just made her hotter. She was masturbating for him and he was taking photos. His personal porn star.

And she loved it.

Thirty with a body that had given birth to twins, and he thought she was the sexiest thing in existence. It was glorious.

“Richard?” Her voice quavered. Her entire body was screaming. Every nerve felt like it was on fire. She could feel it everywhere, the base of her spine, the tip of her nose, the arch of her feet. Everything was reaching for bliss. She wanted to come. She needed to come. But she didn’t want to finish before he was done taking photos.

“Come for me, naughty girl. Rub your clit and come for me.”

She did what he told her to. She was still gasping for air when she felt his mouth on her pussy. He hooked her other leg over his shoulder and licked and sucked, swirling his tongue between her folds, deep inside her, around her already throbbing clit. His beard scraped against her, chafing her inner thighs as she squeezed, the pleasure too much for her body to take. He pushed her legs open again and one arm cinched across her hips, holding her in place for his depredations. He was going to take everything she was. Everything.

She surrendered.

She gave in to the ecstasy he was giving her, even though she felt like she might die from it. Her hands found their way to her breasts, and she squeezed them, tugged at the nipples, making them ache with the pleasure. She felt heavy yet weightless as his tongue worked its magic, and then his fingers joined in as well. Two of them pressed inside her, and he fucked her steadily with them. The wet sounds of her pussy joined those made by his mouth.

He watched her face as he rubbed against her g-spot and she swore.

She saw the laughter in his eyes as he did it again. She grabbed at his head with both hands as her hips fought against his constraining arm. She wanted that touch again and her entire body sought it out, fought for it and with one straining breath, she caught it. She screamed with the victory, her body arching as the fire sparked through her.

He didn’t release her. Instead he wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her forward. His mouth stayed on her clit. His tongue was gentle yet relentless and she was quickly coming again. She couldn’t stop coming. She couldn’t stop crying his name. She couldn’t figure out how to breathe.

By the time she remembered how to get air into her lungs, how to make her chest move up and down, she was on the floor. Richard was kneeling between her legs, his jeans shoved down to his knees, his cock in his hand. It was long and thick and so red it looked angry. His hand stroked over the shaft, his thumb rubbing over the head. She wanted that cock in her mouth. She wanted it hot and hard and throbbing, musky and overpowering. She wanted Richard’s hand in her hair, him swearing under his breath as it hit the back of her mouth, him unrestrained cursing as she took it into her throat. She wanted to be his every naughty fantasy come to life.

The way he was staring at her pussy she knew that wasn’t going to happen right now. That was fine. He was so ramped up right now that he wouldn’t last very long in her mouth right now, and she wanted to suck on him for an hour.

“Are you going to come on my stomach?”

His eyes flashed up to meet hers and he smiled. “No. I was waiting until you were aware again before I take you. I love the look in your eyes when I put it in the first time, even after all this time.”

“Then put it in.” She kept from chanting it over and over, even though that was what was singing through her veins. Put it in. Put it in. Put it in.

His eyes never left hers as he slid one hand under her arse to lift her hips. With his other hand he notched the head of his cock right at her entrance. And then he watched her as he slowly pushed inside.

Oh god. The stretch was incredible. That first push as her body realized what was happening. A million new nerve endings sprang into life, all of them in the flesh surrounding his cock. It was perfection. The head pressed all the way in and she clenched around him without thinking about it. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her eyelids fluttered.

“That look,” he muttered. He pulled out and pushed back in and she moaned. Her hips lifted from the floor as he pressed deeper. “That look right there.”

Slowly, much more slowly than she would have expected at this point, he claimed her. One slow thrust and withdrawal at a time, pressing further into her with each stroke. Layla moved with him, her hips reaching up towards him, welcoming him, beckoning, pleading for him to enter and never leave. Eventually, after way too much time, he was fully in her, deep enough she thought she could taste him. Every time they made love she was amazed at the sensation of fullness, of how entirely her body lived for this moment.

He paused once he was all the way inside her. His eyes roamed over her body, followed by his hands. Her temperature rose as his fingers caressed all of her. Her lungs were forgetting how to function again. One fingertip traced lackadaisical circles over her clit.

“This is what I want a picture of.”

“You touching me?”

He shook his head and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to say anything. He finally licked his lips and answered. “My cock inside you. Your pussy stretched around it. Your hot wet perfect cunt wrapped around my cock. You stretched out naked and flushed and your hair a mess and my cock balls deep in your fucking perfection.”

She reached down to where they were joined, traced the seam of their bodies. “Then take a picture.” Her body flamed with the eroticism of those words. It was a miracle her skin wasn’t the color of her hair as hot as she was. “Take a picture of how good you stretch me open, Richard.”

His hand shook where it rested on her thigh. “Are you sure?”

“You have cloud backup turned off, right?”

He nodded.

“Then take a picture of you fucking me. Take a picture of you fucking your naughty girl’s cunt.”

He groaned, so deep in his chest that it sounded like it hurt, and his eyes fluttered shut, just like hers did when he first entered her.

She watched as he picked up the phone, angled it so he could focus on the vision of her pussy filled by his cock. She wanted to see the pictures when this was all over. She wanted to see what it looked like in a photo as opposed to in the heat of the moment. She wanted to see her swollen glistening softness and his hard veined cock, shimmering with her wetness. He slid out and then slid back in, still taking pictures.

“Can I take a picture that shows your face?”

“Yes.”

What else could she say? She wanted him to have everything he wanted. He was her everything. He gave her everything he could, more than she could possibly have hoped for. This was reciprocity. He would guard these pictures. They would be safe with him. She was safe with him. Even after the years they had spent together, the realization of her safety with him shook her to her core. She was safe and loved and cherished.

“Fuck, yes. Take a picture of you fucking me.”

She had no idea how many pictures he took of them fucking before he got rid of the camera. His hands dropped to either side of her head and she pulled him down even further so that she could kiss him. She could taste herself on his mouth. Her and him together. Her legs wrapped around his hips. Her feet locked together in the small of his back. Her hands clawed at his shirt until she got it off and then she clung to him. The scent of sex and sweat filled the air. The wet sounds of him thrusting into her, the duller sounds of flesh hitting flesh. And finally the grunts of him reaching for his climax, and the hot rush of him reaching it flooded her. She clung to him even as her mind let go and she fell into her own pleasure, joining him in the bliss of dissolution. It shattered him, and it shattered her, and when they finally came back to their senses, they were mixed together a little bit more, joined together a little bit more, pieces of their hearts and souls taking up residency in the other.


End file.
